Monday tilted her head toward me with her attention still on Kane, waiting for him to throw a dart just like everyone else. “Want a drink?”
I looked back, and Phoenix was staring at me from the corner of his eye with the bar’s phone wedged between his shoulder and head, pouring beer into a frosty mug.
“Bartender looks busy,” I pointed out, afraid. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to drink, but I’d never had to order one before. I didn’t know how. Like pumping gas for the first time, or summoning a taxi.Do I wave my hand like in the movies?
“Oh, nonsense.” Monday turned and leaned over, planting her elbows on the bar. “Barkeep, ya right out straight or what? Get my girl a drink.”
Phoenix dropped the mug on the bar in front of a customer, collected cash, and hung the phone back on the receiver before he spun to face me. His fingers gripped the edge of the bar when he leaned over. “What can I get ya?”
“A beer?”
“You’re sure?” His yellow eyes crinkled above his black mask. “What kind?”
I shrugged and pointed toward the place where they were poured. “One of those.”
He twisted his head back for a moment, and when he looked back up, humor swam in his eyes. “You want a machine pouring beer?”
“Stop messing with her and just get her a Gin and Tonic,” Fable intervened, then turned to me with her eyes skyward. “Ignore him. It’s like they don’t know how to talk to people,” she said, loud enough for him to hear, and he slid his gaze back to her.
The group went up in a roar, and I craned my neck around Fable to see that Kane had hit a bullseye, pulling in the lead over Maverick.
My drink arrived, and I sat silently in the corner as they all mingled. Kane, the dart champion, moved on to his next opponent, sliding winks and smiles my way every now and then. Even though I’d come under false pretenses, I didn’t think it would be like this, spending the night in the corner, watching him play as the girls drank and laughed freely. The rest of the guys threw banter back and forth, and I stuck out like a sore thumb, not belonging and feeling so out of place.
The music went from classic rock to party music, and a DJ replaced the band, turning the space before the stage into a heated and sweaty dance ground. There was a shift from the dartboards to the dance floor, but Kane was still high on his winning streak, and only his friends were left to watch.
“I’ll beat any of youmotherfuckers!” he shouted, smashed by this time. His fingers moved around the bar. “I already beat your ass, and your ass, and your ass…” he rambled, pointing at each person he’d won against, but then his finger paused, and his smile turned from sloppy to devious.
I looked to where his finger landed, and in front of the door of the bar, the crowd parted to show three Heathens who’d just walked in. Julian, Beck, and Zephyr.
The top half of Julian’s face was covered in a mask like a phantom, his beautiful mouth on display. The same mouth I’d kissed. His gaze picked me out amongst the crowd, and everything inside me lit and lifted, laced in a crazed high. But the look in his was the complete opposite. Julian’s eyes were cold, detached, empty.
Kane continued, “And, Julian Blackwell,”—the chatter faded, and everyone’s heads turned toward the Heathens who stood with their phantom masks, dark coats, and impervious exterior— “Let’s face it, you already lost.”
Sacred Sea members snapped their mouths closed, the patrons of the bar waited on the edge of a breath.
Julian smiled, tilting his head to the side to hide it, but I still caught it. It was so quick and easy, it jumped like a living thing. He wordlessly took a seat at the bar with the other two as if Kane Pruitt wasn’t worth a syllable. Phoenix slid Julian a drink across the bar top, and he caught it before he tore his eyes from mine.
If Julian was bothered by Kane, he didn’t show it, and the night we shared hadn’t affected him either. He hadn’t said hello to me, not even a wave or acknowledgment in my direction.
The rest of the bar fell back into their mingling and dancing, and Kane seemed disappointed, frustrated even by Julian’s reaction, or lack thereof, which made two of us. Kane snatched his glass from the bar beside me and chugged it all in one gulp, then slammed it back down and snapped his finger in the air, ordering another.
“Fallon, it’s your turn,” Kane said, pulling me up from the barstool with darts piled in one sweaty palm.
I shook my head. “I’ve never played before.”
“No, I’m playing against myself.” He positioned me in front of the wall under the dartboard with his hands on my shoulders. “You just stand there and look pretty.”
At first, I didn’t understand. Not until Kane started walking backward and everyone was staring at me, some with worried glances, others with humor.
“No way,” I said, taking a step out of the zone and walking back to my chair.
Kane dropped his head to the side and lifted his dart-holding hand. “Oh, c’mon. Don’t you trust me? Adora, you trust me, right?” And Adora shook her head with a verbalhell no. Kane appeared annoyed, and his entire body leaned to one side, the invisible force of alcohol. “Adora, get under the dartboard,” he ordered.
Adora shot me a worried expression in her eyes. Her gaze turned to Kane, a knowing glance passing between them. Adora sank from the chair to her feet, the bottom hem of her bohemian-style dress dropped to the floor as she walked nervously to the wall with terror in her eyes. It was as if Kane had complete control over her and she had no choice.
“Fine, I’ll do it,” I jumped in, unsure why. For some reason, I wanted Adora to trust me. I wanted her to know I wasn’t the girl she thought I was, that I wasn’t here to make her life miserable or take anything away from her—that I could be a friend, or at least try. “I’ll do it,” I said again, walking in front of the board. Relief washed over her expression as she moved back to her barstool.
“That’s my girl!” Kane praised, then licked the tip of the dart.
